


lupus harena

by Riana1



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Dorne for the win, F/M, Maybe - Freeform, arya will cut you, except for dorne, no one dies, overprotective siblings for the win, the starks are kind but clueless, wedding or funeral the tyrells are always prepared
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:34:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 8,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riana1/pseuds/Riana1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say the desert strips all bare to the bone, to the truth of the self; which Highgarden is unfortunately going to find out when they host to the wolves of the northern snows and the wolves of the southern sands.</p><p>Or where Oscar Wilde is channeled, much sherry is consumed, Ned is confused, and everyone tries to keep Arya from killing Willas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oberyn

**Author's Note:**

> DORNE WOLVES BABY
> 
> Or Lyanna runs off with Oberyn, Brandon and Robert go after them, hijinks ensue, blood oaths are sworn, no one dies, and Westeros is scandalized.

"I hope I don't have to tell you my intentions are honorable."

Oberyn could only stare and think no man but Willas Tyrell could look him straight in the eye after being caught naked in bed with his sweet little niece and be that sincere. Lyanna would laugh and say Sansa would look as fetching in green as she did in saffron, but Oberyn owed Ned a little more. "Of course, but you don't have to tell me that-- you need to tell her little sister."

Oberyn smiled as Willas went white. 


	2. Loras

Loras found the she-wolf sharpening knives in the western rose garden before backtracking to warn Willas. The idiot thought he was being subtle but that might work on the northern Starks, Loras sighed, but not on the southern ones. Especially on a wolf raised among Sands. Loras decided to hurry to find his brother and maybe the maester just to be sure.


	3. Margaery

Margaery turned from her needlepoint and watched Loras march by, a maester in tow, towards the stables and wondered if the new Sand mare was ready to foal. Loras had been nervous about her over lunch no matter how Willas tried to soothe him, but then Merry starts in about how little Arya Stark told her how she was going to make a hat and purse out of roses for her sister and what a strange, sweet girl she was. Margaery hissed as the needle pricked her finger and rose after Loras, excuse in hand.


	4. Catlyn

No matter what is said, Catlyn Stark does not hate her goodsister; she knows she owes everything to Lyanna, Ned, her children, and her life in Winterfell, but she regrets not fighting harder for Arya to be fostered in the North. The Mormonts maybe- this far south has made her daughters changelings, Sansa slipping away at odd times and Arya trailing after her like hunting wolf. Cat blinked at the pell mell progression of Tyrells to stables outside her window. 

When did the south get so strange?


	5. Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think given enough space the girls would have close. And Arya is the overprotective one. Being fostered among the sisterly solidarity of the Sand Snakes just gave her a bit of an edge.

Arya flips the knife, testing the weight of the blade.

Obara would be pleased, she thinks and lobs the knife carelessly at a rose, slicing it off at the head. Her sister is too good, too kind, too trusting-- embroidering Arya's tunics and calling Arya her 'champion' when Arya beat all the draggy squires at the footraces. She's beautiful- a lady without the bite of their southern cousins. 

She is mine, Arya swears, my duty, my honor, my sister- a flash, petals rain down, if he hurts her I hurt him.


	6. Alerie

Alerie hummed quietly, pin pricking wolf pattern into the damask, while listening to Mace bluster on with half an ear. Gray thread, she mused, with sliver highlights would work best, rich without being ostentatious with a border of winter and wine roses for a bit of famous family romance. Alerie watched her children for a bit before sighting Olenna and Lord Rickard on the terrace. 

Oh dear, she sighed, before speaking to her husband, "Love, make sure we move the good sherry today."


	7. Olenna

Lord Rickard was an entertaining drunk to say the least. 

Lady Olenna sipped the last of her Arbor gold; these Starks were all at least diverting for the children. Mace kept muttering in the corners, but the grandchildren seemed to get along well. Olenna snorted, well indeed, Willas was fooling no one but the wolves. She had seen lovebirds less besotted than her grandson and that girl. He'll proposed properly unless he wants the little one up in arms- literally. Hells, where was the good sherry?


	8. Rickard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of background, Oberyn ran away with Lyanna, Brandon and Robert went after and they all had wacky adventures in Essos. Oberyn and Lyanna came back but Robert and Brandon decided that seeing the world was better and decided not to come back.
> 
> They still sent back the oddest gifts though.

"He sends me these bird clocks-cukoo,cukoo all the blasted time, and a silk tapestry of dogs playing cyavasse- I don't know where I went wrong. Go south an' they go mad, Lya elopes, my hair turned white that year I tell you, a broken betrothal was a serious matter in my day. A matter of honor- not song fodder and swearing brotherhood to the girl you su'pose to bed! Worked out all, but daughters, GRANDdaughters hah, going to kill me yet, Lady 'Lenna, my blessing and bane- we're out of the wine."


	9. Garlan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Garlan turns out to be the sensible one.

Garlan walked out into the gardens when he spied the youngest Stark girl and his siblings and his grandmother with the Lord of Winterfell, and decided a quiet afternoon in would be perfect with Leonette. Garlan did not want to know, especially why shouts of sherry, sherry, sherry were coming from the Warden of the North and the Queen of Thorns. 

Best not to ask.


	10. Oberyn

Lyanna sat up newborn naked laughing, and Oberyn leaned back enjoying the view. Oberyn doubted any other Stark would find the incident as amusing as his wolf wife, but no matter how much he loved them, most of them had to have icicles up their arse to be that stiff. Sansa had flowered to be such a sweet blossom, Oberyn could understand Willas's desire to add her to Highgarden, though he would have to trick the guard dogs. Oberyn had faith, but the she wolf would be another story- like his Lyanna


	11. Lyanna

Lyanna gazed at her husband through the heavy fall of her hair and twisted her arms above her head, stretching in the sunlight and watched her husband's eyes grow dark with desire. Let Sansa have this, Lyanna thought as Oberyn reached for her, let her met her match, measure for measure and out pace the sun in their love. Willas was a good man as few men were and not even her brother could fault the heir to Highgarden for his little girl. Lyanna leaned back as Oberyn begin to kiss a line from her belly to her breasts, trust only a Dornishman to find amusement in accidentally interupting the bed play of a kinswoman and only Oberyn to threat poor Willas with the little sister instead of the father.

The little sister-

Lyanna fisted her hand in her husband's hair, pulling up his eyes to hers,"Does Arya know?"


	12. Oberyn

Oberyn loved his wife. 

Since Harrenhal when he discovered a knight's helm hid a wolf maid and a fierce heart to match his own, but Lyanna was terrifyingly sometimes. He could feel her teeth at his throat, commanding him to play distraction with her brother while she went hunting. If she bit down, he would bleed out in moments- Oberyn lifted his head, baring his throat higher, but Lyanna only chuckled placing a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Go find Ned love and I will deal with our little wolf," and Oberyn groaned.


	13. Ned

Ned investigated the corners of the Highgarden grounds for his daughters. The leagues between them had paradoxically lessen the distance between his girls- Arya trailed behind Sansa like a midday moon, ever-present and protective. It had been right to send Arya to Lyanna, despite the renown of...Dorne. She was happy, fiercely so. Ned turned towards the stables; maybe his hosts had seen his daugh- the sound of his name stopped Ned short and his goodbrother waved at him in the east orchards.


	14. Oberyn

Oberyn watched Ned trudge away from the stables and gleefully toasted his goodbrother with his half eaten pear. Willas did not need this wolf in the fold right now, and while Oberyn had complete faith in the Tyrell heir, Ned could be rather stark in his honor and such complications were unneeded right now. Ned was a good man as few men were, but a bit stiff. Still, his she-wolf would council the cub, and all would be right in the world. 

Better than a Dothraki invasion during your wedding anyway.


	15. Ned

Ned knew his goodbrother loved his sister, cared for Arya like his own, but the man made him grind his teeth. Oberyn Martell took great care to get in under Ned's skin, but Ned could never honestly attribute any malice to Oberyn's remarks. In his more reflective moments it reminded him of Brandon- and Ned felt a deep kinship with the Prince of Dorne as Oberyn asked,"Have you tried the red perry? I promise you it sets the blood on fire, Lya tried it and we had Loreza nine months to the night."


	16. Willas

Willas rolled his hand over the white flank of the mare. The foal would be a lovely gray, given its sire and dam, but, Willas sighed, he wasn't willing to wait until the foal was old enough to be ride no matter how lovely Sansa would look on a gray sand steed raised by him. Three years was too long await.

Willas dusted his hands off; it was hard enough to wait the three hours since he had last seen Sansa. Marching off to corner Ned Stark and announcing his intention to marry his daughter would be a bit gauche and Lyanna would have his head if he tried to be so high-handed without expressly asking Sansa first. Not that she would say no.

Willas hesitated. She would say yes, right?

Then the barn doors pulled open and Willas's jaw dropped at the sight of a maester and his two youngest siblings marching in perfect order up to him.

Loras had to hold him up when Margaery told him bluntly, "Arya knows."

Willas could only think of how lovely Sansa looked this morning, naked except for the green bed covers, and wondered if he would live long enough to see her in green again.


	17. Megga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Incident which no one speaks of and why everyone is wary of Arya.
> 
> And if you name the movie quote I will write you a fic of your choice.

Elinor leaned over to Megga and gestured to the empty seat of their cousin.

The hosting of the wolves at Highgarden had lead to a delightful swirl of scandals and tales. Prince Oberyn and Princess Lyanna, chief among them, their romance and elopement were the basis of legends; half the songs requested were about their adventures, though many of the details like the Dothraki invasion during their wedding had to been bardic embellishment. Frankly, most of Highgarden was counting on making new songs given the 'secret' romance between Willas and Lady Sansa, but Megga realized Elinor was ignorant about little Arya Stark.

Megga pulled a chair closer to Elinor and whispered,"This one time, at bandit camp..."

Megga plucked the embroidery hoop before it dropped from Elinor's nervous fingers; it would be a shame to get grass stains on the damask.


	18. Lyanna

Lyanna found her niece in the rose gardens, running a wet stone over her throwing knives with a fierce focus that would have any Tyrell backing away slowly and trying not to make sudden moves (the mess of destroyed roses at Arya's feet was rather alarmingly red) but the sight gave Lyanna a wistful longing for Brandon.

He had been so determined to protect her, to wrap her in wool and whisk her away from Oberyn that it had taken Lyanna sewing stitches into his skin after an unlucky arrow and berating his pigheadedness while the Dothraki pounded at the gates of the manor before he actually listened to her. He asked her why she had run away without a word, why she did not come to him if she had been so unhappy, why Oberyn of all the men in the world. Lyanna remembers biting the thread off and staring straight into her brother and telling him, Oberyn asked me, of all the men in the world, he is the only one to ask me what I wanted. Brandon did not say a word after that- the liquor finally knocked him out, just as well, having her brother see her ripping her dress into strips to stuff into the wine jugs and set on fire before chucking them on the Dothraki invaders would have been awkward.

Though Robert had been rather pleasant after Lyanna had burned the first dozen horsemen to death (Oberyn had only given her a look, half-mad with lust and almost lost his head to an archer- Lyanna had to yank her husband below the wall and bellowed that if he died on her, she would kill him, and Oberyn only kissed her in response before helping her firebomb another Dothraki).

Lyanna went up to her little she-wolf, crouching down beside Arya with a sigh, "I see you have heard about Sansa and Willas unless these roses have somehow earned your ire, Arya."

"If he hurts her I hurt him."

Lyanna only smiled and reached out to tap her niece on the nose. "I am not questioning your devotion or your capacity of defending your sister, but I only have one question to ask you, my little wolf," Lyanna said.

Arya paused and stared up questioning at her aunt.

"Have you asked Sansa what she wants?"


	19. Brandon

Brandon found Robert where he left him in the wine cellar off the yard of the temple complex, though the twins were new. He thought they were the head's priest maiden daughters or maidens of the gods, his translation of the bastardized Valyrian was screwy, but given their naked state, Brandon wouldn't want to stay to see the morning meal. Sneaking out without your clothes and only a sword and money pouch was only fun after the first ten times or so, then it got old.

Stepping over the sleeping girls, Brandon gave a swift boot to Robert's backside, "Get up, you soused little shit before they toss us both into the volcano."

Robert grunted and began to swear in oddly accented Ghis while Brandon sidestepped the kick at his boots and pulled Robert up by his right arm. It had to be the rice wine, Brandon eyed the empty jugs, barley wine was High Valyrian, beer always Westrosi, and any ale was the newest dialect of trade tongue, Robert picked up in the whorehouses.

"Robert, get up and tie your breeches. I am not going to be hogtied as a sacrifice to an angry volcano- once was enough. Now get up before the priest comes down and sees the mess you've made. Our ship leaves in an hour," Brandon said, swinging the neglected warhammer off the floor and onto his shoulder.

Some permutations of the words, 'priest', 'ship', and most likely 'volcano' pierced the drunk fog in Robert's head and got him up and staggering towards the door, though his breeches were still undone and with a wine jug in his hand. Brandon just snorted and marched behind Robert up the stairs and into the shade of the open plaza, only stopping to pick a carefully carved lamp made from the black volcanic rock found off the holy sites up the mountain side.

Brandon tucked the lamp away into his satchel; he would sent this back with the Dornish trader, Lya would see sent to their father. A lava lamp would be the perfect gift, though Ned probably had a few weddings in the works give or take a few years. Brandon doubled back and grabbed a few more to sent on the way. Better early than late, Brandon adjusted his sword (plus Robert's bloody warhammer) and then took off at a brisk pace when the bald head of the head priest came into view. 

Robert stomped ahead of him, unerringly navigating out of the temple complex and through the twisted alley ways towards the sea and their ship. Brandon never got over how raven straight Robert flew when drunker than the dead but the gods move in strange ways.


	20. Catlyn

Catlyn stared in the cup of hot tea in her hands and tried to recall how she ended up in the solar with her hostess. 

She had been determined to hunt down either one of her daughters (or her husband for that matter) when the sound of singing through an open window brought her up short. 

"There is no wine, no wine. So we drink till we feel fine, feel fine, and when we leave this all behind, behind. Our friends will be drinking all the wine, ALL THE WINE!"

Catlyn could have sworn by the Seven that the ending shout had been her goodfather, but before she could even turn to glance out the window, Lady Alerie appeared out of thin air and somehow the conversation lead to tea and the solar. Catlyn tried to pull out the conversation thread but could only remember a tangled of amusing anecdotes, inquiries on northern fashion, and the exact recipe for lemon cakes of all things. 

Frankly, it was comforting to listen to Lady Alerie recollect on her courtship with half an eye and let the sweet warmth of the tea sip into her hands. "--your own must have been quite the story, Lady Catlyn." 

Catlyn raised her eyes to her hostess, manners maneuvering her thoughts out of gathering wool and into the question at hand. "My courtship, Lady Alerie?" Catlyn asked. Lady Alerie just smiled and took a sip of her tea, letting a friendly pause fill the air, and Catlyn felt a gentle nostalgia curling on her lips.

"I was betrothed to Brandon Stark but after the...elopement, I waited. For a year I waited and then the letters came: Lyanna and her husband were coming home but Brandon decided to stay behind. He decided that he didn't want Winterfell." _Or_ me, the thought no longer contained the bitter sting it once did, Catlyn smiled and took a sip of her tea, marveling at the lingering sweetness before continuing.

"My father pushed for the betrothal to pass on to the new heir, and I accepted it as my right and duty. But Petyr. Petyr was a boy fostered with us at Riverrun and he, he challenged Ned when the news of the new betrothal came down for my hand. Ned didn't accept it of course; Petyr was only a boy, foolish and fancying himself in love with me, but Ned..." Catlyn let her voice die down and straighten her spine, staring straight into Lady Alerie with a fierce pride.  


"Ned took me aside and offered to break the contract if I wanted to. He told me that he could not stand to make another woman unhappy as his sister was, that he wanted only a willing wife and would take the blame from my father and his if my heart was truly against the betrothal. I did not know Ned as I did Brandon, but in that moment I wanted to. So I told him no, I did not want to break the betrothal. I would marry him."  


Lady Alerie leaned over and placed her hand on Catlyn's. "That is worthy of a great song, Lady Catlyn, much finer than a Dothraki invasion if you don't mind me saying so."  


The pair of them broke out in a lilt of laughter before signalling to a waiting servant for more tea.  


  
Lady Alerie glanced over to hallway before turning her chair closer to Catlyn. "Now if I may ask, but what about your other suitor?" she continued, "What happened?"  


Catlyn sighed and accepted the second cup from the offering maid. "Petyr left Riverrun. Ned and I told him together and he left within the forthnight. I didn't hear about him until after Rob was born- that he entered the court in King's Landing and won a place on the Small Council. He sent me a gift of a Valyrian dagger for my son and well wishes for my life and happiness. I haven't seen him in years but has sent lovely gifts for the children on their nameday. My sister, Lysa, too. I think her husband, Ser Elbert, will be sending the boys to squire with their great-uncle in the capitol this year. She wrote to me that Petyr sent them a fine pair of dappled grays and the boys are on fire to take them jousting."  


A noise came in from the hallway, but Lady Alerie pulled in closer to Catlyn, "And it all worked out for the best."  


"It did. I didn't see it at the time, but the gods were working in our favor. I do not think I could be any happier than I am," Catlyn said and held out the empty cup. What did they put in it to be so delicious?  


  



	21. Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile back in Dorne...

Jon stared as his cousin, the heir to the North, scuttled across the inner courtyard wearing only his shirt and tattered remains of his innocence, Jon noted given the perfect love bite on his arse. Jon leaned against the wall and rolled his eyes upwards, beseeching the gods for the cruelty of his parents to leave him to guide and guard his northern cousins while everyone else tarried in the Reach waiting for the girls.

It would be one thing, Jon thought darkly, if either of his aunt or uncle were here, but they had taken his sisters and the rest of the children to the Water Gardens (Bran was as brown as a nut by now, if Obella's letters are true, Aunt Cat will not be able to pick him and Trystane apart by the end of the summer) and Jon was in Sunspear. 

With poor Rob.

And Arianne and his elder sisters.

Jon groaned.

Maybe running off and joining the Night's Watch was still an option? Jon ran an hand through his hair and stalked off towards the shared quarters of his sisters, celibacy might not be so bad if he didn't have to deal with sisters- the memory of a sweet smile and Starfall killed that thought with a gentle thud, and Jon shot a brief prayer to the Warrior before opening the door to the truest enemy territory he had ever known.


	22. Lysa Arryn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For BonnietheDolphin who wanted Lysa.

Lysa Arryn, Lady of Gates of Moon, sat down at her dressing table and laid her hands on the pile of letters and tried not to cry. She had wished for sons on her wedding day, a household full to give joy to her sweet, jovial husband. Elbert had not been Petyr, no any knight of her girlish daydreams, but he had been so kind and considerate to her during their betrothal and so determined to bring pleasure to her in their marriage bed- Lysa slumped her head onto her hands.

Four healthy, happy boys (Robin's delicate health aside) and a doting husband that stopped to bring her wildflowers on his routes with his men in the mountains. Lysa knows she has been blessed by the Mother, but how in the seven high heavens did she and her mild manner husband produce sons with /such/ high spirits.

Like Frederick and George deciding to take their name day presents from Petyr racing into the Great Hall? 

There were hoofmarks on everywhere and a dozen frightened maids to calm and Lysa prayed to all the gods that their swordmaster did not have a apoxy on the spot.

Then Ronnie decided that Harry and him /had/ to go on an adventure to top his brothers. Lysa quietly listen to Ser Granger tell the tale involving spiders, cyavasse, and the boys breaking into the Maester's workshop before Granger's little girl proceeded to lecture both boys into a cowed compliance. 

Lysa sighed and rubbed her forehead. She might have to see about a betrothal if only because it is the first time Ronnel Arryn ever sat down and listen on his own accord.

Couldn't the gods see fit to give one sweet little girl? Then Lysa remembered her sister's letters about her own girls and the tales carried out of the south about the She-Wolf and Red Viper and shuddered. She had seen little Arya with her aunt in Riverrun as they made the trip back to Dorne. A eight year old girl should not have be able to run rings around boys three years her elder or beat them in stick fighting.

Lysa had been horrified; Lady Lyanna had been amused and promised Arya a real sword when they got to Sunspear.

Lysa groaned and considered her children: if any of them had been girls Lysa would be lucky enough to get a red-headed Sharra Arryn. It was difficult enough to imagine the horrors her boys could get up to in the capital with their great-uncle.

She straighten up and began to pick through the letters when a glossy rose caught her eye. Lysa opened the seal and read the letter, her thoughts flickering, who in Highgarden would be writing her family?

Lysa scanned the letter and smiled quietly, counting out the days. They would have to pray the weather held on the Rose Road, but it could be doable if she left in the fortnight. Bless Lady Alerie Tyrell, it would so sweet to see her sister and nieces and nephews. By the time all the Starks reunited in Highgarden, Lysa and her boys would be there to escort them to King's Landing. Hopefully, Lysa narrowed her eyes, the influence of a sterner northern temperament would settle the boys' antics before they set the capitol ablaze accidentally with wildfire, and if that did not work, well, Lysa thought about the tall tales surrounding her youngest niece, she could task Arya with keeping the boys in line.

After all it was her family and her given duty by an aunt with a hidden stash of sweets, Lysa Arryn was not afraid to use whatever means that were available to here. 

Filled with a burst of purpose, Lysa took a quill and paper out of her desk and began to make a list. They would need proper new clothes, best to make them longer considering how boys grew like weeds, proper gifts, you never knew if an unexpected wedding or funeral would pop up, and a ship... Lysa stopped.

What was the name of that vessel they took after Elbert and she were married? The Best Dolly? The Bloody Dolphin? The Bonny Dolphin? Yes, that was it. Lysa made a note for Ser Granger to see if the Bonny Dolphin was available in Gulltown and would hold for them to make berth.

This planned to be a wonderful surprise.


	23. Jon

Jon pushed open the lattice door and peered into the shadowed hallway. He didn't really expect an attack, but he had too many vivid memories of Arianne and his sisters ambushing him as a boy, cooing over his curls while they dressed him up in their older finery like a weakly protesting doll until the timely intervention of his aunt.

His lady mother only laughed and told him no right thinking woman could resist his curls and dark eyes and he would welcomed such attention someday, before ruffling his hair and sending him on his way.

His uncle, the Prince, later pulled him aside after the evening meal and walked him out into the balcony and told him how "brothers and sisters are as close as hands and feet, my boy, and you all must learn how to move and trust each other like you learn move your spear and shield in battle. Jon, you will their right hand someday. For all your mother calls you her little wolf, you are a wolf of the desert, of Dorne, and a scion of House Martell. I trust you to guard them all when I am gone."

Jon sighed at the memory- his uncle meant well, the speech stayed with him for years, though at seven, Jon had taken it rather too literally and caused a panic when Jon had taken in his head to protect his baby cousin from the girls. Hiding Quentyn in his room for half a day while the entire household turn itself upside down until his father walked in on Jon trying to change the diaper of his gurgling cousin.

His punishment had to apologize to the tearful and terrified nursemaids and attend their duties for a week.

And being assigned to escort wayward Northerners, Jon thought and walked briskly down the hall towards the circle of rooms his cousin and sisters shared. It really was unfair to leave Jon with Robb to shepherd and the girls, well, it was like a lamb with wolves. He stopped and rapped lightly at the door three times, at least his father and mother could have left him Arya.

As much as Arya adored his sisters and Arianne, Jon was fairly sure he could sway his little foster sister to see the need to protect her brother's, um, honor. Very few people could get pass Arya once she got into such a state- his mother and father and uncle were the only ones were certain in Jon's mind. The Prince of Dorne was a statesman at the height of his craft, his mother would probably side with Arya half the time (her wolfblood reared up at odd times) and his father, the Red Viper found a murderous Arya as amusing as a mummer's show.

The trilling welcome cut through Jon's train of thought like a knife. He slowly opened the door and entered the room, watching the heiress of Sunspear lounge on a chaise and plait her hair.

Arianne smiled and stretched her arms above her head, her loose braid curling under her bountiful breasts. Jon paused at the sight, Arianne was an intensely beautiful woman and intelligent enough to wield it like a sword, though the effect was somewhat lost on Jon. Having been raised along side his cousins, well, Arianne would always be a sister to Jon, one who dressed him up as a doll and gave him advice on flirtations and nursed him through his first broken heart. No matter the hopes of their parents, Jon would sooner offer for Arya's hand than Arianne's.

It would be safer.

"Did you really have to break him?" Jon asked point blank.

Arianne did not simper, merely smiled and sat up on the chaise. "I rather say I broke him in."

Jon shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Arianne continued unabated,"I consider it a gift for his future bride. You don't give an untried horse you a green rider. It is a recipe for disaster. It is a rather a barbarous custom to throw two virgins onto the wedding bed and expect there will be merriment on the morn."

"Except Robb is going to expect you to be that bride. I think you would find Winterfell a tad cold to your liking, my lady," Jon interrupted. "My cousin, much like my uncle, is very stark in his honor, if you'll forgive the pun. Ruining a highborn maiden will be a stain against his honor that only can be washed clean with wedding bells."

Arianne raised an eyebrow. "Do you consider me /ruined/ now, Jon?"

Jon dragged a footstool from the corner and dropped down on it rather unceremoniously. "Please not this early in the morning, my lady. Did or did I not offer to challenge Daemon Sand on your behalf for not meeting your 'expectations' when I was a wet behind the ears squire? If I tried to ever be that high handed with you, my lady mother would have my head and let my sisters have the rest, but, Robb is my responsibility and I rather avoid any trouble with /his/ expectations of proper behaviors. I don't want to start a bloody war here."

Jon stared glumly at the floor and felt Arianne lean over and pat his hair lightly. I could be the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch or sit on the Iron Throne, Jon mused darkly, and every woman in my life would still feel the need to pet my hair like a was a springtime lamb at a fair.

"I give you my word as a Martell, the virtue of your sweet cousin is unvarnished as Northerners would hold it. We did not lay together in anyway that might have gotten me with child, I simply enlightened him about other ways to please a young maid."

The words took a moment to settle in Jon's ears before he slumped forward, placing his head on his crossed arms. Arianne began to laugh merrily and continued to pet Jon's head. Jon supposed this was his lot in life, he had learn in his childhood to accept mockery and jests with a weary grace and not little the barbs dig in under his skin- he was the only son of the most infamous romance in two generations and the only son among eight sisters, forbearance was not so much a virtue as a necessity.

"You know nothing, Jon Martell. My future does not run north with the wolves, no matter how charming they might be. If I must wed a wolf, why would I need to travel when I have a trained one here on hand?"

A hand suddenly reached up and firmly pulled Arianne's to the side. "I am not your dog, my lady, to be called to heel at your pleasure. I will be your sworn shield if you have need of me and stand by your side as long as Nymeria's star shines in the sky, but I asked this of you, do not make light of my loyalty to you or our House. I seek to serve, not to rule- and my heart belongs to another."

Arianne stared down as her cousin held her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles before gently releasing it, his wolf-dark eyes keeping an unwavering lock with her own. Only Jon could take a jest about pillow games and turn into a bloody declaration of leal worthy of legend. The wolfblood ran hot at the oddest times, for all Jon was born under the shadow of the Dornish sun, he and little Arya were cut from the same cloth. It was a wonder the intensity did not boil their brains out.

"A lovely star if I am not mistaken," Arianne said and watched the blood drained from Jon's face. You think he would learn to listen to his sisters and I, subtlety is not his strong suit, and we rather not have him pine away like a bloody ballad, she thought before continuing,"and stop, Jon, no questioning you or your honor, but we do have eyes. Obara came to get you at Starfall at remember? You looked at Allyria the way your father looks your mother."

Her voice soften at the stricken look in Jon's eyes; for all the parallels, Jon was not Oberyn and Allyria was not Lyanna, neither of them would run away from their perceived duty no matter the contents of their hearts. Arianne rolled her eyes, thank all the Seven that she had loved handsome, adventurous men and her ridiculously romantic kinsmen and the fact Quentyn was safely betrothed to little Gwyneth Yronwood- fixing this romance was a lifetime enough at matchmaking.

Arianne leaned foward and tapped Jon on the nose. "You are a lucky enough /boy/ to be so beloved that your sisters and I would take a lightening strike for you."

Arianne grinned at Jon's sputtering and wrapped her hands around his head and pulled him in close. "It is well time I am wed myself and I rather fancy a lord who makes me laugh and likes my bed. No, Jon, a betrothal does not a marriage make- Lord Dondarrion heads his own House and Allem would hardly take offense if Allyria is sighing over you. No honor to be slighted, no Dothraki invasions, and you should really learn not to doubt your sisters and I."

She ruffled his hair for good measure before turning to sit back down on her chaise. "Now off with you. Go attend to your kinsman's sensibilities so he does not turn as bright as his hair the minute he sees my father return as amusing it might be. Your lord uncle would be put out if Dorne permanently left his heir in his mother's colors."

Jon scrambled up and bowed to Arianne before exiting out the room.

"Remind Robb to breathe, men are not meant to be blue." Arianne called out at her cousin's retreating back.

She giggled and turned to stare up at the clear blue sky. There definitely was a wedding or two on the horizon, the Starks might have to stay in the south longer than they intended to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was initially going to be about Robb and Arianne, but then the internal debate about who were the soft eyes at Starfall and I was going to have Dany fostered there, but frankly the entire royal family gives me heebie-jeebies because I am not going to have crazy fire-and-blood incest in this fic.
> 
> So Allyria won and Arianne needs a husband and back to Highgarden for the conclusion. I think another Ned&Oberyn, Willas, Arya& Sansa, Willas&Arya, Sansa&Willas, Sansa&Marg, before poor Ned gets clued into the wedding preparations.
> 
> Note this is not a hard and fast canon fic so think more Pride and Prejudice- I justify it with Lyanna and Oberyn being the Ur example of romance and everyone generally wanting to have their children happy and making good alliance since there has and will be no wars.


	24. Sansa

Sansa woke with a start, an errant sunbeam crashing into her blinking eyes. 

She sat up, gathering the borrowed book from the grass, and peered up through the broad leaves of the apple tree above her- the sun had slipped farther along than she had expected. Sansa bit her lower lip; while she was certain hadn't missed any of the planned events, she had tarried too long in the orchard- her presence or lack there of would be noted.

Her parents certainly would be looking for her discretely and Willas- Sansa raised a hand to cup her burning cheek. She had buried under the covers like a child after her uncle had found Willas and her; Willas had reached under and laid his head against hers, whispering an oath to 'take care of all things, my sweet, rest in ease and trust me'. Sansa absently moved her hand to trace her lips, and then he a brushed a kiss to her lips.

She stood up, dusting the grass from her blue-green gown. Uncle will not betray me, Sansa reminded herself, if anyone would understand it would Uncle Oberyn and Aunt Lyanna. They both fell in love as soon as their eyes met- Sansa felt a twinge in below her breast. It had been no mere game for her, Margaery had made merry with the stories of trysts and secret romances that blossomed in Highgarden far and wide. Sansa had been delightfully scandalized by warmth and wit of the Tyrells after the occasionally abrasive manner of her more southern kin. 

Sansa loved Arya, but she knew she would never fit half so well in Dorne as her sister did. The Reach however-- Sansa picked up her pace and tried not think of rosewood cribs and laughing eyed babes.

She made her way out of the apple orchard towards the pear orchard that bordered the immediate grounds of Highgarden when her name rang out. 

"SANSA, Ned, your eldest is a greater beauty than the entirety of the North, surely you had some inclination towards her nuptials. Did your sweet Cat make you deaf this morning? The south always did stir the blood-"

Sansa winced as her lord father jerked up the collar of the Red Viper and growled. Oberyn Martell merely smiled and lifted his hands in mock surrender, one discreetly waving towards Highgarden out of her father's view.

Sansa slipped past and hitched up her skirts in a brisk manner that could no way be described as running; ladies do not run, though they could amble quite quickly if needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Tyrells next or Arya?


	25. Willas

Willas stared into his cupped hands.

  
It would be a glorious funeral, he decided, Grandmother had been planning a variation of her own for years despite all signs pointing to her outliving them all ( his father once muttered the Stranger was too bloody afraid to take her and prompty bribed Willas with a new hunting bitch to never repeat a word).

Roses of course. Dog roses Willas decided; at least, there would a a medicinal value in his viseration at the hands of vegenance. A flowering trellis of dog roses on his grave, maybe a few winter roses as tribute to the folly of falling in love with a daughter of Winterfell and fumbling it all up with the other one.

He really should write it all down- make sure that copies were raven sent after they find what remained of his corspe, Willas thought. It would help keep a border war from breaking out. Willas was rather fond of everyone in Highgarden at present, even his shrewed younger siblings. Loras loomed menancing at stable door, peeking out for pint sized intruders while Margaery spoked in hush tones to the maester before swirling square towards Willas.

  
"Stay here and we will go find her."

  
Loras turned away from the door, hand drifting to his sword. "Arya?"

"No, dearest brother. The Stark who will set this aright to everyone- Sansa," Margaery paused, setting her gaze on Willas. "Propose and be quick about it. No- not a word about it, Willas. The pair of you act more besotted than Garlan and Leonette when they were courting. Mother already has the wedding cloth being made."

Margaery strove past Loras to the door and looked over her shoulder to Willas. "I'll go set the search for your lady love but leave the best guard and healer we have here with you. We need to keep you in one piece, Willas, I would hate to ruin such fine fabric with a funeral pattern.

  
Sansa will be beautiful in green, I promise you that."

 


	26. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE.

Sansa ducked around the corner, red faced and gasping for air.

She laid her head back against the golden stone, trying the calm the nervous flutterings in her lungs.

What madness had she sprung upon since waking up in the orchard, Sansa did not know. Highgarden had a magic of its own; the castle stood in roses and romances like a singer's tale- she remembered first spying Willas leaning on his cane and making Aunt Lyanna laugh with a jest, then turning towards Sansa and stumbling for a second. Sansa remembered how her heart seized in that very same moment.

  
No man should have such honey-gold eyes.

Sansa did not know if it was love at first sight, or if at the second, or third, or thirtieth. Only when Willas approached her the last light of day tangling itself in his hair, Sansa realized the rest of the world seemed to vanish as he drew near and she did not care if it ever came back as long as Willas was with her.

Life was not a song, Sana knew that. There would be repercussions for her actions but Sansa would happily face the whole of the realm if Willas was at her side. She bit her lip, alright, maybe she wanted her life to be song a /little/ bit.

It worked for Aunt Lyanna.

Sansa just wanted it to be the /right/ kind of song. Not a tragedy nor a bawdy drinking song, Sansa gave up and let the giggles flutter free into the open air. How her Grandfather knew 'All of the Birds' was no question at all, Sansa eavesdropped on him when he tried to instruct her brothers one late evening in the great hall. She had not been impressed by their efforts at singing. How Lady Olenna knew the words well enough to loudly chastise her grandfather that the proper verse began 'how to kiss a duck's bum without tasting the down,' well, Sansa did not have words to describe it.

She laughed out instead, only to be startled as someone grabbed her hand.

Sansa looked down and cried out, "Arya?"

 

 


	27. Arya

Arya waited patiently until her sister's face stopped matching her hair.

Aunt Lyanna might be right, she thought darkly, but nothing but her sister's words would save him. If Willas Tyrell hurts her sister then not even the salt and bread would save him from her. After all, guest right only existed as far as the guests stayed under their roof. Arya had done the calculations on the distance in her head. Even if their departure took them five leagues away from Highgarden, which Arya doubted, she could make that trip there and back before sunrise on her sand steed.

Obara had praised Arya on her skills at hunting, and frankly, after the botch kidnapping attempt by those idiotic bandits, a crippled Reach lord would hardly be a challenge. Especially considering the guards never bother to look /up/ on their patrols. Not even Bran could beat her on their climbs anymore.

Arya cocked her head slightly and narrowed her eyes. Surely Sansa would be capable of words sometime soon right?

Her sister dropped her clenched hands and reached out to grasp Arya's shoulders. "You are not hurting Willas, Arya. You are not going to speak of hurting him. You are going to put that thought out of your head and bury it a thousand leagues beneath the Boneway. I forbid it, no matter what happens. You give me your oath you will never hurt him."

Arya could feel a tremble in the hands on her shoulders, but not a shake in Sansa's voice. "Even if he dishonors you?" Arya asked.

"I love him."

Arya dropped her eyes- she didn't /understand/ why her sister could trust so easily, especially a bloody Reacher, but her sister looked too much like their mother, like Aunt Lyanna, and Aunt Mellario. Like Jon after he came back from Starfall. Like her heart had wandered out of her chest and she looked so vulnerable and happy and brave-

Arya heard the command when Sansa said her name and looked up into her sister's shining blue eyes and swore.

"By all the old gods and the new, I will not seek to hurt Willas Tyrell, even if he deserves it."

"Well, that solves quite nearly everything now-" the cheery voice floated out behind them and Arya whirled around, one hand on the hilt of her dagger and the other pushing her sister behind her.

Margaery Tyrell stepped forward, hands plaited in front of her, with a smile that raised Arya's hackles and made her wish for a sword. Margaery stepped lightly towards them, circling around to their side, before reaching out to loop her arms through both of theirs. 

"There shouldn't be any unpleasantness when we all going to be sisters."

Arya scowled down at the hand pressing lightly on her own and let her hand slide off the hilt of her dagger as Sansa stuttered softly.

"Sisters uh, Lady Margaery, I swear Arya didn't mean-, I, going to be?!" Arya shot a look as the Tyrell began to steer them casually down the path and was promptly ignored in favor of a sly smile to Sansa.

"Just promise me you will act surprise when my brother proposes now," Margaery said, "and leave the rest to us."

Arya nodded in response and glanced warily at arm holding on to hers. Margaery smiled and lead one stunned and one scowling Stark towards the stables.


	28. Loras

Loras knew he was being childish.

He was an anointed knight, pledged to serve and protect all maidens nobly born and technically Arya Stark met all those qualifications. It did not stop the crawling dread from creeping up his spine and twitching into his sword hand. He should not by rights be intimidated by a girl who weighed less than a half-grown hound, but the baleful stare directed at every Tyrell at the entrance to the stables promised nothing as gentle as that.

Of course, Margaery was patting the girl on the back and reassuring her with incessant good cheer that they would be family soon, what a lovely figure she would cut in gray satin with ribbons in her hair at the wedding, and oh, wasn't it /lovely/ how Arya would be gaining a new brother in Willas, he might even give her a new pony as a gift.

Loras did not know if his sister was that bloody brave or merely suicidal.

Frankly, all he knew in his bones was he was going to kicking up road dust on his courser for Storm's End as soon as the celebrations would allow. And stay with Renly until next long winter hit. It would be merry to only deal with the unsmiling visage of Stannis Baratheon for a season or three.

It would be restful.

Loras did not turn when he heard the walking stick clatter to the ground. 

Or the soft exclamations of delight that floated by after.

He did drop his sword hand completely when he saw the same shimmer in the eyes of his sister and the little she-wolf. Only for his beloved sister to ruin everything by exclaiming, "now that is settled we only have to deal your dear mother and father now."


End file.
